Nothing natural
by LilyBartAndTheOthers
Summary: How long is happiness supposed to last? Based on Jill Sobule's song WK fic.
1. Accompanied

**Nothing natural**

_**No matter how far I tumble, what stars I'm under**_

_**I'll always come back to you**_

With a sharp irony her body was coming back to life slowly. Her senses were leaving their previous state of apathy to connect back with her brain and set off the whole machine. Her eyes got closed for a furtive second. She blinked, observing blankly the building opposite the street. The room was plunged into a deep silence and she could hear the air passing by her nose, reaching her lungs in a mechanical motion, a vital one.

Breathing; basic element of existence

With apprehension her hands jumped on her lap before sliding on her sides. She brushed the sheets of the bed and let her palms make contact with them. Her index finger touched the metallic frame; it sent shivers to her spine. She didn't react.

The floor was cold under her bare feet, so white; too clean. And all of a sudden life appeared to her in a disturbing series of simple facts, devoid of ambiguity. A bed, a window, air, oppressive feelings; everything was settled down with an implacable logic. The door cracked open but she didn't move. The heat of his hand spread over her icy flesh as he pressed her shoulder softly.

"Are you ready?"

A shy nod accompanied the quietness of her answer and very slowly she got up. She made a step, another one. He passed his arm around her waist and held her tight. She didn't dare to speed up her pace; no matter she wasn't feeling dizzy at all or in pain. As a matter of fact she was fine, at least on a physical plan but she was scared that an abrupt movement might tear something and made her bleed if not worst. So she kept on walking a bit unsteadily until they arrived to the desk where a nurse was filling an application form in a routine gesture. The pen got dropped and landed loudly on the plastic table as she looked up at them and smiled.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Second shy nod; absence of words

"Perfect so I scheduled your follow-up appointment on Wednesday, October 31st which means in two weeks. Is that ok for you? In the meantime, I give you a list of after-care instructions and a 24-hour-a-day, 7-days-a-week telephone number that you can call if you have any questions or concerns. You can return to work or normal activities tomorrow but don't drive today because of the sedatives you took. I recommend you to have a bath while coming back home. It will relax your body but don't douche. Are you bleeding?"

First shake of her head; timid smile

"You may have some bleeding, it's normal. Spotting that last up to six weeks, heavy bleeding for a few days, bleeding that stops and starts again; it's ok. If you have temperature or extremely strong cramps, don't hesitate and give us a call. Don't forget that a licensed counselor or a nonjudgmental group is available at any moment too… You will find all the information on this brochure. Just let life come back to you slowly and everything will go on smoothly. Have a nice day and see you in two weeks."

They stepped out of the building and into the boiling rhythm of 32nd street. The cab was waiting for them, sagely lined along the sidewalk. She climbed on it; they closed the door and left, their hands intertwined. Leaned against the window, her hazel eyes seemed lost in the contemplation of the daily turmoil. The world had kept on turning but for some reason, she felt like she had missed a part of it and couldn't recognize it anymore. New York had changed and she had lost all her references. It made her weak, vulnerable. A Latino song was playing on the radio, its joyful cadence contrasting sharply with the coldness of their thoughts, the bitterness of their minds.

"What are you thinking about?"

His voice was soft, honest in the fragility of the tone. She swallowed hard; opened her mouth.

"The sky is gray. It might rain in the evening."

He looked up instinctively to check the veracity of her statement. The sky had been blue since May, not a single raindrop falling in the summer. And as if the weather was following their acts _ heavy decisions _ it seemed to be over now.

The journey didn't last very long to The Upper East Side. She paid the driver and very soon opened the door of the penthouse. The place was calm, empty. She had given precise orders to respect for the day; she didn't want to be disturbed. They crossed the living-room that overlooked Central Park, abandoned their coats on a sofa and stopped aimlessly by the kitchen.

"Are you hungry?"

Second shake of her head; she crossed her arms against her chest, protectively

"Would you like some tea, a bath?"

"A bath would be fine, yes. Thank you."

She unbuttoned her cardigan, unzipped her skirt; passed a hand over her stomach. It was vaguely swollen, a bit sensitive perhaps. She sat down in the tub and let her body vanish under the bubbles that smelled of vanilla. Her head brushed the marble wall; she relaxed, smiled softly.

"Does it hurt?"

The question had been burning his lips since she had regained consciousness and sat up in bed at the clinic. He felt powerless and it made him angry, nervous. It wasn't fair that she had to bear it all by herself.

She looked at him blankly and shook her head.

"No, it doesn't."

"Do you hurt?"

The subtlety stirred up a smile, a wider one. She caressed his cheek and kissed his lips furtively, chastely.

"It's more about an odd feeling, halfway between relief and interrogations over the fairness of it. But I'm fine. Don't be worried, honey."

He left at the end of the day when the lights of the city began to spread over the labyrinth of streets, long avenues. Laid down on a sofa in front of the fireplace, she grabbed the copy of her medical file.

_First name__: Karen_

_Surname__: Walker_

_Age__: 38_

_Address__: 658 Madison Avenue, NY 10021-8446_

_Blood Type__: O+_

_Period of gestation__: ten weeks, undetected ectopic pregnancy_

_Procedure__: aspiration, abortion complete_

_Remarks__: no allergy, no IUD inserted, paid in cash, accompanied by Will Truman_

Would it ever make her cry?


	2. Fortune cookies

**_Nothing natural could turn the tide_**

**_That washes over both our lives_**

_Six months earlier, May_

It had become a ritual throughout the years they had come to spend together. All of a sudden the table turned quiet _ the eyes still sparkling in delight _ and they all looked at her with a barely contained impatience. She grabbed the cookie between her thumb and her index then separated it in two parts, the little paper appearing in the middle. Did she really pay attention to the message or was it a pure act of fake superstition? She didn't know, didn't mind; it was part of a tradition that she had learned to love and venerate like a warm smile from a friend. She made the missive slide between her manicured nails, took a deep breath.

"So what does it say?"

Her hazel gaze swept the room as she raised an eyebrow, confused unless it was embarrassment. The subdued lamps hid the blush on her cheeks as she cleared her voice in a nervous motion and stared at Jack.

"_How can you have a beautiful ending without making beautiful mistakes?_"

The statement imposed a veil of discomfort, heavy silence, over the table as Karen's lips intended a pale smile; a shaking one. Unexpectedly enough, Will broke the awkward moment. He leaned over her, rubbed her back and kissed her temple.

"So now it's up to you. Happy birthday…"

Were people supposed to follow the advices of a fortune cookie? They were just a couple of words thrown on a greasy paper, which main goal _ if not the only one _ was to entertain the end of a Chinese meal before going back to the monotone rhythm of existence. Perhaps if she hadn't turned down Stanley's offer the day before to spend the entire summer in Italy with him, the message Karen had just read wouldn't have had any particular effect. It sounded way too close to her personal choices though and she kept on thinking about it the whole evening.

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Everything was going fine. As a matter of fact, it was the very first time in a long while that she could advance the idea without having the sentiment that it would sound more like a lie or a ridiculous attempt to relieve nobody but herself. The beginning of the year had been stressful and they had argued, over and over; pointless details that none of them could even remember before the end of their screams and dramatic gesticulations towards each other, the expected slam of the door. A sort of smoothness had finally invaded their marriage, providing thus a rest _ a well-deserved break _ to their incessant fights.

Could she possibly have just abdicated, tired before Stanley's invectives and so abandoned the party for a while? She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to push away such a thought. They were just doing perfectly fine; there was nothing to worry about, not even the fact they would spend the summer apart.

"It's only a fortune cookie."

Her eyes remained fixed on the skyline before her; she nodded, took a deep breath. The breeze was warm that night, the stars lit up the sky and it smelled of sun; a comforting omen for the months that had to come. Will made his way next to her and leaned on the brick wall of the terrace. They had come back to his place immediately after the restaurant, enjoyed a nice chat on the couch then all left to their own occupations. She had landed there for whatever reason, rocked by the subtle scent of basil plants and the coolness of the air.

"So how is it to turn twenty-five?"

She burst out laughing but didn't reply to his silly comment. Her heart seemed to be weighing a lot, all of a sudden. Something was pressing it tightly and the stirred up pain was latent underneath her skin; remorse?

"What did your cookie say?"

"_Judge each day not by the harvest you reap but by the seeds you plant._"

Karen turned around and looked finally at her friend. She pouted, rolled her eyes. Hands in the pockets of his trousers, Will looked relaxed, hidden in the shadows of the night; even the moon couldn't catch up his brown eyes.

"Why don't you like yours?"

"I don't always understand my decisions."

"Do you think you've made a mistake?"

"That's the problem, Will. It's a fair enough idea but deep inside of me, my choice seems to keep on belonging to a mere logic."

His movement resulted fluid and extremely fast, unexpected. Within a second Will abandoned the wall and wrapped up his arms around Karen; planted a kiss on the top of her head. She smiled in his embrace. Those moments were rare between the two of them; never disappointing though. Their uniqueness brought a sensation of honesty to the act and so she never refused it. There was something about Will that she couldn't find in any other man.

"You will come this summer, won't you honey? I missed you all last year."

"I guess some traditions are made to remain."

She locked her eyes with his, smiled brightly; just a kiss, at the corner of his lips, halfway between friendship and the boldness of forbidden limits. The mischievousness that suddenly appeared in her gaze put an inevitable end to the furtive moment of closeness and Will waited sagely for her comment, playing all along.

"By the way honey… I didn't turn twenty-five today but twenty-three."

Karen winced as her blood began to boil in her veins in anticipation of the upcoming season. How come the meaning of a life could so much depend on the presence of some friends, the words advanced by a fortune cookie?


	3. A combination of circumstances

**_No matter how far I wander, what stars I'm under_**

**_I'll always come back to you_**

_October, two days after abortion_

The worse of all was that she felt like nothing had happened, nothing special. She had gone back to work _ had lunch with Jack _ and Grace had simply rolled her eyes before the first critic of the day. Her nights had been peaceful and even the stomachache resented in the first hours after the medical intervention had slowly faded away. Coming back to normal; it was probably better like that but it pushed her to wonder about the actual status of her heart. How could she accept it so easily, no matter it had been her decision since the very beginning and so she wasn't allowed to regret it? It troubled her a lot; this easiness she had to put aside the consequences of her acts over her emotions. It might have been the desired effect after so many years of determination not to let anything make her life tip over but still, an abortion was far from being a mere argument or some heartbreaking love story.

Her feet were caressing Jack's lap in an absent-minded motion on the couch of Will and Grace's flat when a well-known warmness made her freeze and swallow hard. Obviously none of her friends noticed the sudden paleness on her face as they kept on chatting over a bottle of wine, enjoying a relaxing evening after a stressful day of work. Her hazel eyes swept of an awkward, anxious gaze her black pants but she didn't dare to move, just in case it would make it worst. She was petrified, disarmed and for whatever reason a veil of loneliness began to wrap up her heart.

She leaned up on her elbow _ her head had previously been resting on the arm of the sofa _ and took a deep breath as she slowly stood up; left the room. Nobody paid attention to her apart from Will who glanced at her furtively, asking in silence if something wrong was happening but she simply decided to avoid his gaze and headed unsteadily to the bathroom, the furthest one. She needed intimacy.

Her shaking fingers unbuttoned her trousers and she took them off with precaution, anticipating the result. She gasped though, looking down at her legs, then bit her lower lip as her whole body abdicated under a strong wave of stifled sobs. It had run on her thighs, a single line; bright, dark red. Not an important quantity but it was surely enough to stir up a heavy embarrassment, a pale confusion; slight panic and latent, silent pain.

"Oh God…"

All her movements until then blocked by the unexpected bleeding suddenly came back to life in a rush of a dizzy effervescence and she grabbed some toilet paper _ her hand still shaking like a leaf _ then proceeded to clean up her bloody skin.

Someone knocked on the door but she didn't answer. She was way too concentrated on cleaning her legs, trying not to burst into tears too loudly.

"Karen, is everything alright?"

Will poked his head inside only to see her bent over, rubbing energetically but yet pointlessly her flesh as her sobs gave rhythm to her panicked movements; hair in front of her face in a subconscious, protective attempt. He came in the bathroom immediately and locked the door behind him; grabbed her wrist. The back of her hand pushed back some tears; he made her stand up and look at him.

"Let me help you."

Will felt guilty; no matter how good his intentions could be. He would have wished nothing but to have to bear what Karen was going through because after all, he did have a part of responsibility in it. The injustice of the situation only managed to emphasize his frustration and the pain that looking at her dealing with it all by herself stirred up in his heart. A soft smile lit up his face as he pushed away from her face a strand of hair; planted a kiss on her nose.

"Do you want to have a shower?"

She shook her head, frowned.

"I need a pad."

Grace and Jack burst out laughing in the background, completely unaware of the distress taking place in the bathroom just a few steps away from them. Will nodded, disarmed though. He scanned the shelves but very quickly came to the logical conclusion that he didn't own any hygienic items of that kind. Karen shrugged, passed her tongue over her lips; she looked fragile all of a sudden, so small.

"I have some in my bag but it's in the living-room…"

"Grace might have some in her bedroom or… Or a tampon…"

His remark made him blush. What was it that men always felt uncomfortable while talking over such a subject?

"No, I'm not supposed to wear a tampon."

"I go for your bag, then."

He came back almost immediately, still smiling. But as she looked down at his hands, Karen realized that he was shaking, just like her. She threw away the toilet paper and was about to put her pants back on when the warmness of a damp facecloth suddenly slid on her thigh. She didn't move, just observed him cleaning her own body. It owned a singular shade as if she had lost her capacity to take care of herself and Will had turned to be in charge of ii; as if her life depended on him. It was an odd feeling, humiliating but also terribly comforting, vaguely right.

"Is Stanley still in Dallas?"

She nodded, already missing the softness of his hand sliding along her inner thigh under the heat of the facecloth. She buttoned her pants, washed her hands and looked furtively at her image in the mirror.

"Then I want to spend the night with you."

Karen raised her eyebrows, stared at the floor. She shouldn't even be debating the idea in her head. They had come to clear conclusions the day she had given her agreement for the abortion. Even before as a matter of fact; September had put an end to whatever they had shared during the summer. Her pregnancy had just been a combination of circumstances.

"I don't know… I'm not sure it's a good thing."

"Please…"

She locked her eyes with his brown ones, studied his gaze and the honesty of his silent request. He wasn't feeling fine; she needed the heat of his arms. She slowly nodded.

She fell asleep against him that night, lost in the comfort of his chest. She hadn't bled again and for the very first time since she had read the positive result of her pregnancy test, everything seemed to find its place with the sweetness of an invisible harmony. Even the mansion sounded friendly when it actually was the place she had always hated the most for reminding her of the incertitude of some past choices.


	4. Eden Roc

**_By day we'll burn, by night we'll rust_**

**_And who knows what becomes of us_**

_Four months earlier, July_

_Eden Roc _had been built in the historic district of Shelter Island Heights, in Rainbow Park, designed by Olmstead; overlooking the bay and the harbor. It was a typical Victorian house _ white wooden walls and deep blue Venetian curtains _ which fusion managed to capture the shining sun in a restful, warmly motion. It had nothing to do with the exoticism of The Bahamas or some other tropical island but it suited Karen better, from the temperate weather to the landscape offered from the cliffs that had conserved a unique, wild abruptness. Time seemed to have got suspended there. As soon as you made a step out of the ferry that connected the island to Greenport, you were wrapped up in another universe, a very calm land and you couldn't but forget about the rest.

They went there every year, every summer. The quietness of the place fed their bodies of an odd, singular energy and their hearts warmed up then; ready to come back to the fury of Manhattan after two months of retreat in the charms of Long Island. But for whatever reason and while they were about to celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary, Stanley had decided to go to Italy. She had refused, way too attached to _Eden Roc _not to even come there for a week; no matter how The Old Continent owned some of the most beautiful places she had ever happened to visit. She would have missed the seagulls, the marina and the hidden creeks idyllic for a couple of hours of reading sat in the shadows of an old pine tree. He hadn't even protested, just turned his back at her before coming back to his activities; end of the conversation. They wouldn't spend the summer together.

Will passed the door of the Victorian house on a Monday afternoon; travel bag in hand, ready to enjoy two months of well-deserved vacation. The sun was piercing through the linen curtains, making the hardwood floor shine in a rainbow of golden shades. He had already come there four times in the past but never for such a long stay and the fact that Grace and Jack would only be able to join him on weekend moderated his enthusiasm; stirred up his curiosity to see how things would be going between him and Karen. They had grown closer through the years, in their own way though and the peculiarity of their relation always tended to trouble him a bit. The limits were thin, in every single aspect of it.

He made a few steps forward and smiled at Rosario as the maid abandoned her deckchair on the terrace that overlooked the harbor to welcome him properly.

"Where is Karen?"

"She went out for a walk this morning."

Will nodded, a bit perplexed before the casualness of Rosario's statement when it was almost three in the afternoon and Karen hadn't come back yet; not even for lunch. The island surely had numerous restaurants but he knew his friend well enough to have the certitude that she would never sit alone at a table in public. She was afraid of looking lonely.

They climbed the stairs that led to the five bedrooms on the upper floor in an awkward silence and it's only when the maid closed the door behind her, leaving him alone, that Will allowed himself to sigh, breathe again; stretch out his arms. The summer could begin.

The weather was sunny but the sea breeze too cool for a swim and while lost in his thoughts, leaned against the frame of the window, his brown eyes suddenly caught up her figure at the end of the road. She was wearing a linen ivory dress with a black cardigan and her hair was floating in the air as in the last curve of the path she speeded up the pace on her bike. Will smiled. How could he have almost forgotten about such a detail? Nobody used a car there and the vision of his friend swallowing miles under the wheels of an old, rusty red bike turned into a soft routine after a few days spent on the island. But curiously enough, your mind erased the image with the passing of time; until the next summer and Karen always ended up surprising you by climbing back on her bike.

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She had been waiting for him the whole day. The sun had woken her up early in the morning but her impatience preventing her from getting back to sleep, she had got up and gone for a walk to the other side of the island. She had discovered a new creek but for her heart beating so loud, she had been unable to fully enjoy it. At last she was getting some company. Not that she didn't enjoy a moment of loneliness but none of her friends had come over the year before and the days had seemed grayer without them, a little boring.

She looked down at the ground as they kept on walking through the night. Besides she was glad to spend more time with Will. His presence was restful, honest; when Grace and Jack would bring the subtlety of younger souls for a couple of days on weekend.

The wind caressed the masts and the sailing boats began to hum a gentle lullaby in the shadows of the marina. They hadn't done that much in the afternoon; just let the hours fly away in the lightness of a fluid conversation then shared their first dinner together on the terrace of the house, overlooking the bay and the lights of Greenport dancing in the background, reflected in the waters.

The midnight walk reminded her of Cornwall. They used to go out for a last stroll and her tiny hand clutched to her father's one, she looked in her back and waved at her grandmother who always declined the invitation. The old woman stayed at home but actually seemed to find an unexpected pleasure in standing at the window and smiling at her; the fireplace lit up her face, her eyes sparkled.

Karen closed her eyes, taken away by the moving reminiscence. Would she ever stop dreaming about the past?

"What are you thinking about?"

She shook her head and forced a smile; crossed her arms against her chest. The night was cold and she was only wearing her cardigan. She shivered.

"Just a very old time…"

Will didn't reply, obviously taken aback by the murmured confession; a soft one, honest in its harshness but nonetheless warm. Without really knowing why, he passed his arm around her shoulders and made her come closer to him.

"I don't miss Stan… Is it bad?"

Her own comment set off giggles from her but she swallowed them back almost immediately. They sounded bitter, way too sincere. The seconds began to fly away in a whirl of confusion as Will remained quiet. Karen looked down at her feet and realized they had stopped walking. His hand brushed her hair as he pushed away a black strand to plant a kiss on the top of her head; tightened his grip on her shoulders then.

"That doesn't mean he's not in your heart."

It lacked conviction. She looked up and contemplated the lights of _Eden Roc _glimmering through the trees of the private park. One, two, three; she took a deep breath. Nothing would ever fall apart.


	5. About making plans

**_No matter how far I tumble, what spell I'm under_**

**_I'll always come back to you_**

_October, four days after abortion_

Everything disappeared behind a black curtain, a thick one, as soon as she closed her eyes. She parted her lips and very slowly let some air invading her body; filling her lungs before getting dissipated in the complex mechanism of respiration. Just a smile, her head leaned on her side; she had always been sincere with him, simply remained quiet at some point _ over a couple of things _ but being secretive was fair, wasn't it?

She looked at him pour some wine, accepted the glass he tended her even though she wouldn't even make contact with the drink. Alcohol wasn't allowed, not yet; besides she was pretty sure that it would leave a bitter taste in her mouth if she ever dared to take a sip.

She sat further on the armchair, her legs crossed; vaguely balancing from right to left in a subconscious motion. Did he look worried, anxious? She narrowed her eyes at him, shook her head; kept on smiling. All of a sudden Stanley bent over _ hands on his lap _ and sighed; frowned.

"Something happened this summer, Karen; something important."

She felt her blood slow down in the labyrinth of her veins, get cold; almost icy. Her heart began to beat faster and with an impressive efficiency she scanned every single second of the time she had spent with him since they had come back to Manhattan. What did he know exactly? How could he have guessed? Perhaps for wishing nothing but hiding everything, she had actually emphasized the whole story. She swallowed hard but didn't say a word. He had to speak.

"I met someone in Italy, we love each other; I want a divorce."

Three sentences and she felt like she had been killed; never underestimate the power of words. She blinked under the odd sensation that her soul was leaving her body through an act of pure cowardice. Something hurt in her lower stomach, the strength she had been trying to stifle for four days now. She shouldn't be dealing with harsh emotions; her heart was still coping with a silent trauma.

"Karen, say something. I'm sorry…"

She looked blankly how his hand suddenly pressed hers in a comforting attempt. Their fingers didn't even match. She raised her eyebrows before staring back at him.

"I'm going to pack. I should be left within an hour."

She stood up a bit too quickly; the room started spinning around but she kept on walking.

"It's not what I'm asking you right now; at this hour."

Her hand leaned on the doorframe as her eyes got fixed in the intense contemplation of the carpeted floor. She shook her head, bit her lips.

"It's fair enough though."

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She sat down cautiously on the edge of the mattress, afraid that the slightest movement would hurt her recovering body. She felt fragile, too light and empty; in pain.

In an incomprehensible attempt, she turned her head around and looked behind her at her suitcases sagely lined near the counter of the kitchen; the key of the flat abandoned on a shelf. She parted her lips, took a deep breath but the sound of her voice remained in the depths of her stomach. With a shaking hand she caressed it; invisible gesture of apologize towards herself, towards Will, towards it, towards life in more general terms.

It hadn't been the right moment, the right person. As a matter of fact she hadn't felt the urge boil in her entrails yet. So she had simply assumed that it would be better to put an end to it before the situation reaching a point of no-return. She was married, had been unfaithful but still; she hadn't spent a single night with Stanley in months, he would have never believed that the child could have been his. Would have she even been able to lie about it?

Motherhood; such a scaring word and she wasn't ready for it at all. Perhaps in other circumstances she would have thought about it twice; if she had ever felt supported, reassured. But a summer love affair wasn't supposed to win over a ten-year marriage so it hadn't been about a choice to make but a mistake to erase.

It just hadn't crossed her mind that eventually, her plans could come to face unexpected requests like Stanley's.

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"Where is she?"

"I offered her The Carlyle when she said that she wanted to leave immediately but…"

"She doesn't like hotels."

Stanley put down his cigar and looked at the fireplace, surprised. An amused but nonetheless confused smile played on his lips as he raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the remark. It was a very personal detail in Karen's life that required an evident closeness. He settled further on the leather chair of his office and tightened his grip on the phone, wondering about the degree of intimacy both friends had actually reached so that Will got to know about such a singular characteristic. Perhaps he shouldn't be the only one to feel guilty at the end.

"I know… Several of the flats I own in Manhattan are available. She chose Saint Luke's Place."

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She didn't answer when he knocked on the door, didn't move when he came in. For some reason she knew he would be there; unless it was more about a couple of hopes, strong wishes. The night had finally fallen over New York and the flat was now plunged in a semi-darkness. She hadn't bothered to turn the lights on; had stayed still on a bed that she didn't recognize as hers and sent back the coldness of things that had been abandoned for a very long time.

She used to love this place though, the last floor of a townhouse; she had even given directions for the decoration of it. But the spell hadn't set off for once, not that night.

The contact of his hand on the back of hers sent shivers to her spine; first brush of the day with the heat of someone's skin. It had to be his, ironically enough.

"Karen…"

His whisper got lost in a sigh as he kneeled down next to her. She clenched her jaw but suddenly opened her mouth when her breath became to loud.

He pushed away from her face a strand of hair; caressed her cheek. Her eyes were still fixed on the wall in front of her, like hypnotized by a blank trick of her mind. He swallowed hard, swept away a veil of tears that was asking for nothing but well up in his brown eyes. If the situation had sounded unfair at one moment, now it simply had turned inhuman; unbearable. The frustration and anger couldn't even get projected against a potential culprit as nobody had ever happened to know; dark circumstances of independent decisions that at the end exploded in a harsh, sharp reality.

"I gave him everything."

They both jumped at the sound of her voice, so fragile; almost too quiet. His fingers pressed her nape. She shook her head.

"I went through it for him. I went through it for him…"

Karen bent over as her tears took possession of her and she let Will do as he slid her body against his in a disarmed embrace; his arms stifling her sobs with the strength of his own distress.


	6. The queen steals the king

**_The winds may blow us far apart_**

**_But nothing will undo our hearts_**

_Four months earlier, July_

She grabbed the old piece of ebony and made it slide along the black and white squares in a sort of hypnotizing waltz, under the silent rhythm of their minds. Will bent over and let a long, deep sigh escape from his lips. A few seconds flew away before him finally smiling; he shook his head. The defeat was approaching.

"Be careful, Will. Karen's queen is about to steal your king."

Grace sat on her friend's lap, studying the chessboard with attention; amused. Both players looked at her, stood up as she nodded quietly. Game on pause, the weekend was over.

Fourteen days had already passed by as a comfortable routine seemed to have settled upon their insular life; warm memories that would get the shapes of unforgettable ones with the years. Nobody had plans; perhaps it was the key of the sweet summer they were all living. From walks to peaceful readings under the shadows of pine trees _ rocked by the sea breeze _ the quietness of the week got wrapped all of a sudden in the loud music of _The Pridwin _and the cadenced movements of the dancers on the floor; their hearts pounding too fast in their chests, alcohol burning their throats until the first hours of the morning.

And when the ferry finally left on Sunday evening, the last one, an awkward sensation invaded the two acolytes' hearts. They looked at the boat go away in a troubling silence, not daring to break the moment as if something would vanish in the air; the tranquility of an implicit complicity, vaguely shameful though but so comforting.

Karen smiled at Jack and closed the door of the house behind her. Will and Grace were waiting on the road; travel bags in hand.

It was the moment she loved the most, curiously enough. She would miss her friends but the truth was that her weeks with Will were even more perfect and nothing would ever come to trouble such a secret. She never let the idea cross her mind in public, barely admitted it to herself in the intimacy of her room because then she could feel a well-known heat rush on her cheeks.

Until what point was she supposed to enjoy someone's presence by her side? She had always hated imposed limits; no matter how sometimes they were obviously required. And she just didn't understand why a constant sentiment of mistake seemed to inhabit her soul; why she regretted some decisions when other ones didn't bother her at all, bolder ones besides. People used to think she was deprived of a heart. She wished they had been right.

Life would have been easier like that.

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She speeded up the pace and filled her lungs of fresh, cool air as she turned on her right and pedaled towards the end of Cherry Lane. The sky was blue, the sun caressed the trees in a golden motion and embraced her hands; her legs. She heard Will giggle in the background; it made her smile. She had got a call from Stanley the day before but growing in frustration for enjoying their vacation apart, their voices had risen the level of another argument and so she had abruptly put an end to the communication; angrily enough to let some tears appear at the corner of her hopeless eyes.

The night had swept away her sentiment of failure and while waking up she had needed some change; something far from the house. Will hadn't asked for the reason of her sudden request and even gladly accepted; his book still abandoned on the teak floor of the terrace next to a deckchair as they had left on their respective bikes for an unknown destination. It was good sometimes to let your heart guide your step; no matter where it led to.

She turned her head around and winced at him as she speeded up again and obviously it would have gone away by itself, scared by the bike, if she hadn't noticed it but all of a sudden Karen found herself rushing straight on a cat that was lying down under the sun in the middle of the road. An instinctive reaction and she changed her direction but the velocity of the wheels made her lose her balance and she vanished in an unsteady zigzag through the bushes of some private park; the vegetal stifling her scream of surprise.

"Karen!"

Will got down immediately and ran through the green area in search of his friend. He let go of his bike as he noticed Karen's one a few steps away, abandoned on the grass.

"Karen, are you ok?"

She had landed on the ground behind a big oak tree and was fixing the sky in a blank motion, laid on her back. Will checked her head but she wasn't bleeding. Her silence made his heart accelerate though.

"Karen, say something!"

Very slowly she moved her hazel eyes towards him then blinked. A timid smile began to play on her lips but a huge laughter substituted it, lighting up her graceful features. Will sighed, relieved.

"Damn, you scared me!"

"I can't believe I fell down like a kid…"

She sat up and cleaned her hands before sweeping away a tear provoked by the wave of laughter running through her whole body.

"I'm fine, don't be worried. Really; I'm ok. I'm sorry if I scared you, honey."

She was about to plant a light kiss on his lips when he grabbed her ankle unexpectedly. The heat of his hand on her skin sent shivers to her spine and she swallowed hard. Why had he stolen such an innocent moment of joy through a flesh-to-flesh contact? He was too serious sometimes; their relation was like that, every single second of their lives, too serious, too many meanings.

"You're bleeding."

She had cut herself in the process but superficially enough not to even notice it in the first place. Will sat down next to her and grabbed a bottle of water out of his rucksack. His fingers were still on her ankle, a mere inch away from the injury. She restrained a gasp as the cool liquid ran down on her skin. Seagulls passed above their heads; she looked at the creek on her left.

The tissue absorbed the dry blood and his fingers caressed softly the cut; brushed her knee in a comforting motion. She locked her eyes with his; spread her legs, wishing nothing but his hand keep on travelling up her inner thighs. The mere idea made her blush and she bit her lower lip. Why did he not move away? She smiled; leaned over for whatever reason, the subtlety of her movement resounding loud in her heart.

His lips kissed her forehead and a veil of bitterness wrapped up her throat. He had broken the spell in a fair motion of logic. They stood up _ nervous giggles before an awkward laps of time _ and went for their bikes.

Her knee was burning, her ankle too under the reminiscence of his touch. Karen closed her eyes, hoping secretly that the sensation would last.

They came back home and pretended to draw a line under the inappropriate feelings stirred up by the contact because it was better like that.


	7. An innocent reality

**_No matter how far I wander, what stars I'm under_**

**_I'll always come back to you_**

_October, five days after abortion_

If she had to stay there for a long time, Karen swore to herself that she would hang a painting on the wall. She had been staring at it for the whole night and its ivory color was becoming oppressive under the pale light of the morning.

Was he sleeping? Had he actually managed to fall asleep at one moment? She hadn't, afraid that if she ended up closing her eyes, the resented pain would turn into a harsh agony; a sort of non-fictive nightmare from which she would never be able to escape. There had been no fight against primitive instincts anyway. Her body seemed to have adopted a state of complete awakening just to prevent Stanley's decision from haunting her mind even more and now her back sore; her legs ached. She passed a hand over her stomach; the skin was tensed.

She was about to move slowly and turn around when Will stretched out a little and planted a kiss on the top of her head. The gesture reminded her of Shelter Island and for a couple seconds she almost could feel the warmness of the sun slide on their bare skin; the seagulls dancing in the sky and the waves crashing below, at the very end of _The Rainbow Park_. They had been happy once, together. Perhaps they should have known better and been more careful. Such instants of exhilaration never lasted longer than the furtiveness of a timid smile.

"Are you mad at me?"

She felt his arms freeze around her frame, his breath get hold in a vague attempt to swallow back a gasp. She had obviously taken him aback through an odd sincerity lowering her voice until it had actually brushed the limits of an inaudible whisper. Her eyes got tired of the blank contemplation of the ivory wall and she looked down.

"You always said that you would support me and you did but be honest with me, Will… Are you mad at me for having taken such a decision? What did you think of me then? What have your feelings been about it?"

His hands slid on her shoulders but she rejected quietly the attempt to make her turn around. She couldn't face him, not now that her fears were melting in a bitter fusion with an uncertain guilt; an odd shame before an eventual egocentrism. His index brushed her temple and he began to caress her cheek slowly. His breath was hot against her face; warm and reassuring.

"A divorce never crossed your mind and we had absolutely no plans. We still don't as a matter of fact."

The lack of plans had been the main lines of the past summer but perhaps everything had to come to an end at some point and as tempting as it sounded, sometimes escaping from the rules of conformism was simply impossible. They might have been caught up back by the seriousness of life. It always won over innocence.

"It's not all about Stanley. You know what I mean. Answer to me, please…"

"Your marriage isn't the only argument you advanced. You said that you weren't ready, that it wasn't the right time. You know how I would love having a child but I have to recognize the veracity of your words. How could it have been a good idea when whatever we had lived remained so blurry and most of all, had stopped to be? A child needs references and I don't think we would have been able to bring them all properly."

His hand caressed her arm before reaching her fingers in a melting fusion. He looked at the intertwined sculpture blankly; frowned.

"I think we did what was the best not only for us but also for this baby. It might sound illogical, weird if not scandalous somehow but it's what I feel. You haven't been selfish at all, on the contrary as your first thoughts went straight for the kind of life you would have offered to this child and obviously it wouldn't have been the right one."

"There may be a time for everything."

Her voice tried to sound hopeful but she forced her tone on the last syllable and it only resulted a bit artificial, awkward. She passed her tongue over her lips and rolled her eyes; sighed, slowly.

"Thank you for being here, Will. Thank you for never having turned your back at me."

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She had found it on a Saturday afternoon while wandering aimlessly through a flea market in The Flatiron District. Among the thousand useless items that littered the dusty tables of the brokers, it had caught up her attention for the contrast its shapes offered with the rest of the mess. It didn't seem to be at the right place there, near an old carafe and a marble ashtray. The actual value was still a mystery but eventually the two hundred dollars she had given that day had been a fair price to pay.

She had come back home holding it tightly, still looking for a purpose to it. An old Chinese box, a dark red one with a fine line of gold; it was way too tiny to put letters in it so it had remained empty, in the wait of some aim.

She looked at it, wondering why she had actually taken it with her while packing her things and leaving the mansion. Will had just slammed the door after the promise that he would come back soon, later in the day and for the very first time she found herself alone facing nothing but the symbol of some impulsive, inexplicable purchase that seemed to follow her throughout the waves of her tumultuous existence.

She opened it; the black velvet contrasting with the red in an elegant motion. The ring slid off her hand slowly, caressing her skin all along like a reluctant last kiss that we would like eternal. The platinum band embraced the dark fabric.

She closed the box slowly, put it on a shelf and turned around; took a deep breath.


	8. Behind the shutters of her soul

**_Nothing natural could come between_**

**_Enamored mortals such as we_**

_Four months earlier, July_

How funny it was to see that a so tiny detail _ that had only stolen a couple of seconds in a whole life _ could have such repercussion on a beloved routine that they had thought strong, firm enough not to ever fall apart. Their relation had changed irrevocably and no matter the efforts they kept on making, the resented embarrassment over their minds seemed to have settled down for the rest of their existence.

They avoided each other; which actually did work since they were both desperate to find out an effective evasion from the awkwardness stirred up by the last events. Will used vanish in a murmur of goodbyes before lunch and didn't come back to the house until the late afternoon when the sun began to caress through pale shades of pink the golden ocean. She had no idea about the destinations of his getaways and she actually never seen him during one of her walks; an ounce of disappointment perhaps in a coincidence she would have loved to live, prohibited idea. And then the dinner _ quiet face-to-face _ when the fluidity of their past conversations was missed in a silent confession.

They spoke, still laughed together but something had got broken and whenever Karen's hand brushed Will's by accident, the instinctive reaction of reject only emphasized the artificiality of whatever they were supposed to be living.

She ran up the stairs of the wooden terrace and entered the living-room; took off her shoes. The floor was warm under her feet. She let her fingers slide along the piano that occupied a large corner _ her eyes narrowed dreamingly _ but stopped all of a sudden as she noticed the chessboard on the coffee table near another French window. They had abandoned the game, every single piece of wood still waiting for the next move and life would come back slowly through a unique, unexpected scheme of events until the winner stood alone; vaguely happy if the realization of its loneliness didn't end up bringing a bitter taste to its so-called victory.

_The queen steals the king._

Grace's comment resounded loud in her head in a sudden, harsh motion. She smiled, for no particular reason; unless she was just too sad to actually cry. A deep sigh and she headed to the first floor, pushing everything aside.

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The synchronization got resumed to a perfection typical of some bad movie as Will passed the door of _Eden Roc _and Karen's cell phone left on the table near the entrance started ringing. He grabbed the item and checked the screen; Stanley was calling.

"Karen, your…"

"She's upstairs."

Like a ghost coming up from nowhere, Rosario crossed the living-room without a gaze towards him before disappearing again; the austerity of her voice wrapping up his warm intentions in a coat of ice.

His bedroom was on the left, Karen's one on the right while another one was opposite their respective doors; two more bedrooms on the second floor. The phone had stopped ringing, a message substituting it on the little screen. Will's hand brushed the frame of the door; it was open ajar. Very slowly he poked his head inside but the room was empty. He made a few steps in before noticing the distinctive melody of a shower we finally turn off.

In an effort to keep a Colonialist style, the top of the bathroom doors was constituted of wooden shutters that you could close to different angles according to the degree of intimacy that the user was looking for. The sun was sliding along Karen's ones, probably piercing through them in golden paths of light that embraced the room on the other side for her not having closed them entirely.

His fist got suspended in the air. Just when he was about to knock on the door, his eyes caught up her figure through the wooden shutters. She had tied her hair up in an approximate bun, probably to avoid the water on it; she was looking at her reflection in the mirror, blankly.

He shouldn't have stayed there, observing his friend in silence. It owned an aspect of perversion that sent chills to his spine, made his stomach hurt but he didn't move and his gaze followed her slightest movements from the way she frowned at her own image to her hand caressing her nape. She turned her back at the door, ironically enough, and took off the bath towel. It slid along her back, brushed her hips as her bare skin appeared to Will's eyes through the soft shade of a tired sun at the end of an afternoon. He had never seen her naked before, never reached such level of closeness to ever have the opportunity to observe Karen deprived of any artificiality. Nobody could cheat once the skin was revealed to the day, not even the queen she was at controlling all her appearances.

He liked it.

The lace of her underwear slid on her hips, she hooked her bra and proceeded to button up her dress before turning around, ready to leave. Her sudden movements took Will aback and he let go of his friend's cell phone that he had been holding all along on the mattress of her bed then hurried out to his own room. A couple of minutes flew away before a loud knock on the door dragged him out of his so-called activity; any absurd thing not to focalize on the scene he had been witnessing silently, shamefully. Karen poked her head inside and smiled at him. Her hair was falling back on her shoulders; makeup on. For a few seconds Will stared at her with an ounce of regret for preferring his friend without any artificial lighting.

"I want to go out tonight. I know Grace and Jack arrive tomorrow and so we will probably go back to _The Pridwin _but there's a good jazz club not that far from here and I was wondering if you'd like to go there with me."

Will nodded, wondering if she would ever call him back 'honey'.


	9. Soliloquy

**_No matter how far I wander, what stars I'm under_**

**_I'll always come back to you_**

_October, eight days after abortion_

And she smiled…

_My name is Karen. I'm thirty-eight years old and I don't like mashed potatoes. My favorite color is red; I love the smell of the ocean and the sound of the waves. When I was a little girl, I pretended to be a witch in order to make new friends. My family and I moved out perpetually. You have no idea how it's hard to build your identity without references. The scar on my left ankle is the only memory I have from Mississippi. I fell down from a tree, pushed by the nastiest little boy you would ever be able to find on Earth but curiously enough I have completely forgotten his name. He sounds like a Ben or a Marc; unless he's a Richard. I don't like them that much._

_My timidity reached a point of no-return at the age of fifteen and I tipped over in a world of extravaganza, scandalous behaviors. Most of people who go into extreme reactions like me have just been in the incapacity to control their nerves properly and so we give up; play a role. It's easier. Only logical events follow this kind of odd decision and this is how I left home at the age of sixteen. For being too young to live on my own, I spent some time at my grandmother's place, in Cornwall. I had only lived in America until then, gone to England in the summer. The quietness of the place contrasted sharply with the boiling effervescence of the big cities we had stopped by for a while, more or less a long time; three days or half a year, what's the difference at the end since we always packed one morning and drew a line under the name of an area written down on an invisible list? _

_The seaside village didn't calm me down but I learned how to make plans, to have dreams and how to build perseverance and determination to reach my wishes. I graduated and decided to major in Greek and Latin. Absence of logic, dead-end choices; perhaps I was just made to reproduce what my mother had made me live. I arrived in London, started college, met a man; got married. Even though those four events happened rather quickly, a whole series of other elements gave a staccato rhythm to my incomprehensible existence but none of them really deserves to be mentioned so I prefer to stay quiet over it. Anyway being secretive has its charms, doesn't it? _

_Should have I listened to some professors and postponed my wedding? One of them pushed me to really hesitate when the others' words not even reach my brain, my stubborn mind. Anthony Smith, one of the greatest specialists of Greek poetry. He's the only person who ever told me that I was talented. It's touching, you know; troubling but immensely enjoyable, warm. _

_We spent a night together. He was married and had three children. It settled down my decisions and the exact next morning I packed _ once again _ and left definitely. _

_My first husband was a businessman who eventually made fortune over a large part of The Old Continent. His boldness, unless it was cupidity, pushed him to make it to the United States and we moved there. My first impression when our plane landed in New York was that nothing had really changed. Nobody knew me, I was studied from head to toes by a crowd of strangers who couldn't help but smile _ delighted as they said _ before my accent, so British. Eight years spent in England, eight years for a new life that only came to crash back in the superficiality and hypocrisy of America. I let them take me away in the possibility, bitter enough, that I was born to be the constant new one; the person wrapped up by a mysterious past, fascinating but yet terribly distant. _

_Small wonder why it became my signature… I never owned anything else to actually exist. _

_A dark misunderstanding and a so-called relation to the mafia put an end to my dear husband's company. He killed himself on Christmas Eve; a shot in the head. I did miss him but didn't mind at all at the end. So I came to the conclusion that I had never really loved him; no matter how sweet he had been with me. _

_I was about to celebrate my twenty-sixth birthday when I met Stanley. He was married _ ironic constancy in my personal life _ and he appeared to me as a whim. It worked, it always does… We married a couple of years later and it finally settled me down as someone else than a novice in the high society. We went from parties to exotic destinations; Champagne poured in a permanent motion, caviar and the finest restaurants, expensive palaces. Did I get accustomed to it? Who wouldn't?_

She laughed, hugged her friends, went shopping, booked tables for dinner, read magazines, came up with some critics; rolled her eyes and pouted. She was back on track, clutched to the hope it had to be like that.

_I don't know what happened; why we came to this point. Marriage turns into a sweet routine after several years, a whole decade. We argue, we make love; we think about the future. When did it go wrong? I missed the sign; unless I was already resigned. _

_The summer showed up and we got closer. Of course I had always found him attractive, smart; reliable. But I hadn't expected anything else from him than the mere presence of a friend. I guess we lost control of it. _

_Stanley__ was in Italy and I was troubled by the situation; the fact that for the very first time we didn't even care about spending our vacations apart. It didn't sound normal to me; so confusing. The tension grew little by little, day after day; and before realizing it I found myself in Will's arms. I enjoyed it. _

_We avoided to mention the situation, the dead-end aspect of it; the mistake it looked like somehow. _

_Everything has to come to an end; it did. We came back to Manhattan in the silence of our thoughts, our lips still burning from the last kiss; the last night spent together. Some love stories are just made to belong to the summer when the lightness of the lovers' smiles reflects the warmness of the sun and the sand slipping through delicate fingers; the smell of sun lotion and the soft breeze of the night. September stole the happiness that Will had stirred up in my heart and for a very long moment I thought I was just feeling down. The days seemed so gray at the manse, too different from what I had lived. _

They sat down on the grass and proceeded to take out of the basket plates and glasses; forks, spoons and knives. The air was cool and the sky of a limpid blue. It was time to enjoy one of the last moments of warmness before the rainy fall invaded New York and got then substituted by the snow of the winter. Central Park was crowded; everyone had come to the same conclusion on this Sunday afternoon.

_My name is Karen. I'm thirty-eight years old and I don't like mashed potatoes. I had an affair this summer with a very good friend of mine. I got pregnant. For a thousand different reasons I went through an abortion. My husband had just left me; he fell in love when I renounced to this possibility, for him. So don't take it bad if I keep on smiling so brightly. It's just a trick of my timidity not to burst into tears._

"Karen, would you like some mashed potatoes?"

_It's just timidity._

"Sure, honey…"

She smiled brightly.


	10. The incertitude of a wish

**_By day we'll burst, by night we'll rust_**

**_And who knows what becomes of us_**

_Four months earlier, July_

When he came back from an hour or so of shopping on Grand Avenue, Will always tended to avoid the main road. There was a little path that led directly to the ocean from which the private parks of the houses offered a breathtaking view over one-hundred-year-old trees, white wooden benches and little ponds, British style. The sweet murmur of the waves gave a calm rhythm to his steps; the sun caressed his face warmly and then he wished nothing but suspend the summer in order to spend the rest of his life there, on the island. He wasn't missing Manhattan, barely Grace and Jack as a matter of fact. The weekend routine with his friends seemed to fulfill his needs properly when Karen brought a singular shade to his day-to-day life; a mysterious comfort to his insecurities.

He had dreamed of her several times but the plot always remained confused in his head as soon as he opened his eyes. And there was just this taste in his mouth then; the feeling she was haunting his thoughts in an invisible embrace. He hadn't learned anything special about her that he hadn't already known so he had assimilated the quiet obsession to the daily closeness; the peculiarity of an insular life. Time was passing by slowly but the image of her naked back turned at him was still burning in his mind; melting in the secret fusion of his fantasy to brush her skin, feel her shiver under his touch, his fingers sliding along her spine, feeling her bones _ her breath _ before feeding himself with the heat of her entire body. Could it ever be wrong when it was just a mere idea? It didn't necessarily have to belong to their reality.

Will climbed the stairs of the terrace, brown bag in hands. For having taken the seaside path again, his journey came to a different end that didn't lead him to the front door of the house but the private park; then the terrace. He turned on his right and abandoned the bag on the table of the kitchen; opened the fridge, poured some water in a glass. He was thirsty. The sigh was heavy enough to cross the living-room and reach his ears, to make him stop; look around. _Eden Roc _was so quiet that he had assumed everybody had left for the afternoon and he was the first one to come back before dinner; days used to fly away like that since the misadventure of the bike, the kiss on her forehead and his fingers on her thigh. Pushed by an increasing curiosity, he made his way to the main stairs, slowly.

She was leaned against the wall next to the front door, cell phone in hand. She had closed her eyes to escape from something _ a slight pain _ but the way she was frowning let you understand that she had failed in her own attempt. Three steps forward; he pressed her arm.

"Karen, are you alright?"

The sudden contact and the sound of his voice made her jump. She let go of the phone, rolled her eyes. In an instinctive motion they both kneeled down to grab back the item but completely forgot about the mere inches separating their heads. They looked up; banged against each other.

"Damn it, Will! Watch out…"

His fingers followed hers and he began to rub her forehead. The gesture made her freeze; she nonetheless let him do. A few seconds passed by before her hand slowly came to press his; he stopped, locked his eyes with hers. A dog barked in the street; they kissed, still kneeled on the floor.

The door flew open as Grace and Jack burst in, grinning in anticipation of the two days they would spend on Shelter Island. Abrupt end of the awkward, intimate moment; unless it was just the beginning and none of them knew exactly how to deal with it…

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How come when some things needed to be talked about, people lacked time and had to postpone it? It let you in a very disarmed mood, halfway between a thousand different sentiments that only managed to prevent you from thinking straight. And you felt dizzy then, so weird.

She looked at Jack and smiled at him from the sofa she was laid on. The dinner would be ready within a minute now _ delicious smells escaping from the kitchen _ and the weekend had officially begun; quieter than usual though as Jack had decided to play the piano and for the very first time since they had come to Shelter Island, the delicacy of the notes was invading the rooms little by little. He was a talented musician but for whatever reason never seemed to see it as a professional possibility. Perhaps he was just scared to fail one more time and make his dreams crash, the strongest ones, highly connected to music.

Will was sat in front of her, Grace in his arms. She avoided his gaze meticulously but was actually looking at nothing but at him; swallowing hard before the chemical reaction of her heart, speeding up as soon as she studied his hands, his legs, his shoulders. She wanted him but simply couldn't.

The Friday evening went smoothly through a barbecue, a sweet talk. They stayed at home though.

Perhaps it would have been different if they had headed to some club, come back vaguely drunk in the first hours of the morning and fallen asleep almost immediately. They would have forgotten, or at least put aside, their kiss, all its meanings. But they didn't and while the moon lit up the sky in an elegant motion, their boiling brains plunged them in the impossibility to succumb to the night.

Karen got up at two in the morning, the cool breeze piercing through the open French window caressing her face; embracing her bare ankles with sensuality. She stepped out on the balcony and observed the ocean in silence. The sailing boats seemed to dance in the dark, rocked by the monotone rhythm of the waves. It was so calm.

"Oh…"

It didn't have to be fate so she assumed it was a mere coincidence when Will appeared by the French window of his bedroom. She hadn't turned any light on not to wake anyone up; he had probably decided to go out on his own and now they were there, silently facing each other under the pale moonlight and the brightness of their confusion. He made a few steps towards her; she frowned, tightened her grip on her shawl.

"I'm married."

It had sounded more like an apologize than a simple affirmation, a pure fact. She locked her eyes with his brown ones and shrugged; wishing nothing but a different twist in all the previous events.

"Tell me something I don't already know."

His voice sent chills to her spine; she swallowed hard.

"I'm so scared…"

Her fingers brushed his slowly in a quiet waltz of incertitude then stopped moving as her lips finally found his in a deep, relieving kiss.


	11. Breaking news

**_No matter how far I tumble, what spell I'm under_**

**_I'll always come back to you_**

_October, twelve days after abortion_

"I'm pregnant."

The words hit her with such violence that she surprised herself clenching her fist, swallowing hard. Within two days she would be back at the clinic for a check-up appointment. She would push the door of the lobby, take the elevators and walk down the pale green corridor that led to the waiting room; then sit down there, looking at nothing but the other women trying to hide their absurd shame behind old magazines. She knew what it was, what it felt like to be a part of it; how we always thought it could only happen to a well-definite category which you didn't belong to of course. And one day for whatever reason you came to have a seat, your hands twisted for being so nervous, so lost; unsure. You might deal well with an abortion but it still remained engraved in your mind as an unforgettable episode of your life.

She had difficulties to face her own image reflected in the mirror. Some fragility had wrapped up her body, bewitched her heart that was still suffering from her imminent divorce with Stanley. She had to cope with a thousand different details at the same time and the ideas simply twirled around in her head, made her feel dizzy, unable to catch up her breath before analyzing everything calmly. For the very first time in her life Karen felt disarmed, alone; confused. She had lost control over her nerves and she didn't know how to react before it. Will's tenderness towards her didn't result enough; she might need time at the end.

Grace looked aside and shrugged; smiled timidly.

"Who…"

"It's Leo."

Karen cleared her voice but as much as she would have loved to sound enthusiastic, it burnt her throat, tore her heart; in silence. It wasn't jealousy but the simple fact that she might not be so ready to face such a topic and bear the image of her friend going through a normal, peaceful pregnancy.

"Karen, are you ok? You look pale…"

A quick nod at Grace who had suddenly stood up, obviously worried before the absence of reaction _ the slight uneasiness _ and she passed her tongue over her lips, looking for an escape. Why was her existence so precipitated all of a sudden? Why did it sound so dark, so hard? She felt like she was bumping over and over into a wall of bricks and when she finally thought that she had found the right path to go on, another obstacle came up and she banged her head against it with violence.

"Listen, Karen… I'm sorry if I hurt you in any way. I know that you're going through a bad patch with Stanley and I come up with this baby thing so suddenly…"

"No, it's ok. I'm just… I'm just surprised but happy for you too. Congratulations."

She stood up and awkwardly hugged Grace, doing her best to push away a wave of bitterness.

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She closed her eyes as the heat of the water embraced her skin, warmed up her bones almost lovingly. She took a bath every day in the perspective it would help this weight on her shoulders to fade away more or less quickly. It worked for a little while then the passing of time settled it back until she plunged again in the tub; tried to relax. Without knowing why exactly her fingers began to caress her knees, going up to her thighs. She had barely made contact with her flesh since she had aborted, afraid that the slightest touch would damage something. She took a long, deep breath; frowned, concentrating on her gesture. She made it slowly to her lower stomach before traveling down again along her inner thighs. Her skin was still sensitive and it sent shivers to her spine.

With apprehension her fingers moved to her center but she got interrupted by a knock on the door and sat up in the tub; breathless. For a couple of seconds she had forgotten about the rest, only focalized on her body and an ounce of life seemed to have started burning again, timidly.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure…"

Will poked his head inside; smiled. In other circumstances his extreme sense of care towards her _ a permanent one _ would have got on her nerves but the sudden loneliness of her life highlighted his presence of a peculiar, comforting strength. Her hazel eyes followed him until he sat down on the floor next to her, raised an eyebrow.

"Do you remember the first time we met?"

The question took her aback. Grace had broken the news at lunchtime and even though Will had claimed to be happy about the pregnancy, Karen would have thought that he would have wanted to speak about it later; for obvious and personal reasons.

"It was raining. Grace and you were arguing on the sidewalk next to her office. She introduced me to you when I arrived; I was probably late or something. You told me I had the quintessence of Audrey Hepburn and the stubbornness of Jane Manfield; I didn't reply, just turned around and went in the building."

"Did you hate me for what I said?"

"No… I took it as a compliment. It's not every day that you're compared to such legends; it's not every day that someone manages to touch me with the required ounce of subtlety you used by then..."

She blushed under the honesty of her confession. She had always loved Will's smartness; the way he knew how to play with words and how to make of them a delicate if not subtle artifice. He had a vivid mind; she cruelly envied him for that.

"You were wearing emerald earrings and the way they brushed your cheeks reflected the green leather belt around your waist. Then you turned around and disappeared. From then on I wished nothing but see you again."

She looked down at the bubbles floating at the surface of the water, hiding with sensuality her bare skin. His words had been too sweet and she felt uncomfortable; not ready at all for their meanings.

"You shouldn't say that."

"We lived too many things to erase them and make it all over again, didn't we?"

She nodded.

"I'm sorry."


	12. Contradictions

**_Nothing natural could turn the tide_**

**_That washes over both our lives_**

_Four months earlier, July_

They had known it was wrong since the very beginning. As soon as a couple of shameful ideas had invaded their brains, stolen their desires, they had lost control of everything before heading slowly towards an inevitable defeat; nonetheless so warm. It wasn't about adultery and the sentiment of guilt that then spread over people's minds but the shades of a sad symbol weighing upon their bare shoulders, a vague notion of failure and their past didn't make sense anymore; their whole life. It was every single decision taken throughout the years that all of a sudden turned into a sharp but yet true realization. And the worst of all was that they weren't even an exception. One day you were married; still succumbed to your friend's lips.

Sex with Stanley had always seemed inexistent. From the absence of honeymoon for business reasons to separated bedrooms Karen hadn't had the chance to take advantage of it properly. She felt like she was brushing it slowly, almost dreadfully; and whenever her fingers finally made contact with it, something got broken and vanished. She had grown in frustration, a quiet one but who had said at the end that marriage wasn't made of some difficult compromises? She had got offers for love affairs, more or less bold; but they only left an amused flame of curiosity in her eyes and she never accepted any of them. Why had she changed her behavior there, at this exact moment, with Will? She knew it had nothing to do with weaknesses, no; it was all about moral distress, deep feelings.

She had woken up for quite a while yet but had been enjoying so much the warmness of the bed that she hadn't opened her eyes, stayed quiet. If she concentrated on her sensations, she could feel a wave of sweetness run through her body, caress her veins and smile at her heart as if it were a new beginning. Then she realized that his arm was crossing her stomach and it sent shivers to her spine.

His lips made contact with her temple and so she agreed to abandon her dreams definitely. There was nothing more depressing than the morning after, nothing more real. After the pale shades of the night and the passions of the sighs _ exhilarating moments _ the light of the day suddenly weighed a lot on life. You were disappointed then, unsure. Who knew what would come out from all of this celebrated night under the quietness of the moonlight?

She stretched her arms and rolled on top of him in an awkward, half-asleep motion; locked her eyes with his brown ones. His bare skin was softly molding hers with a disturbing logic but none of them really paid attention; their minds still off, miles away from the bedroom of _Eden Roc_. Then it came up, without any warning. A large smile crossed her face, lit up her features; it wouldn't go away before them coming back to their Manhattan routine.

Will left her room in silence, came back to his then went downstairs to share breakfast with Grace and Jack as if nothing had happened. The Sunday went on peacefully through a subtle gaze hunt, hands brushing each other's; stolen smiles. What had they set off exactly apart from the demise of their lives? Very soon they found themselves on the pier, observing the ferry go away towards Greenport on the other bank. Karen used to wave at their friends before being wrapped up in the strangeness of being back alone with her singular summer companion but this time she simply looked down, unsure of the next step she was supposed to make. A thousand ideas crossed her mind; Stanley, the mansion, _La Piazza Navona _and the peppermint ice-creams she shared with her sister when they were little girls. A series of elements more or less susceptible to describe her existence following a logic that only fate could understand; and to arrive there, at the end of a road on a July evening, near a man with whom she had shared more than what she should.

She wanted more. All day long she had fantasized about his lips on her flesh, the reminiscence of his caresses on her thighs; their night hadn't been transcendental but true, honest. And there was nothing better as a matter of fact. A torrent of questions was twirling in her head, burning her voice but in a quiet whisper it all stayed down in the depths of her wonders. Why had he chosen her? What were his expectations? Why did he remain so secretive about his life when his main attraction to men was a pure lie? Diane couldn't have been the only one; Will knew way too well how to please a woman.

But she didn't say a word, haunted by her timidity; a heavy discomfort before the way life was supposed to adopt. They remained there for a while, looking blankly at the asphalt just in order to avoid the loud beats of their hearts.

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"What do you like the most about life?"

Laid down on her stomach, completely naked, Karen pouted at the moon shining in the sky. They had come back home slowly, had dinner, spent some time on the terrace before retreating upstairs. It sounded harsh, casual and bare but the truth was that it was far from being deprived of sweetness. His fingers passed along her spine, made her giggle. The rustling of the sheets accompanied Will's move and she closed her eyes, swallowed hard as he kissed her buttocks

"Please answer to me, honey."

Very slowly his trail of kisses led him to her nape and his breath got warmed against her cheek.

"The unexpected twists of life; that's what I like..."

His answer only set off a frown from her. She shook her head, whispered.

"I hate that. It pushes you to wonder about all of your acts."


	13. Honey

**_No matter how far I wander, what stars I'm under_**

**_I'll always come back to you_**

_October, fourteen days after abortion_

"Please lay down."

The metallic frame of the bed brushed her bare legs. She shivered, swallowed hard and looked down with the same embarrassment as every single woman who happened to push the doors one day; a sort of confusion spinning around, flirting with the weight of important decisions.

Her back finally made contact with the leather mattress but she didn't stare at the ceiling this time. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath; tried to relax at the most but for every step that had led her to the room, her heartbeats had climbed a devilish ladder in the strength her emotions.

"Are you ok?"

She shrugged, gave an attempt to a vain smile but she had no strength to fool anyone; didn't even feel like to.

No, she wasn't fine at all. Her body seemed to be burning under an invisible scar, the few self-confidence she had got throughout the previous years had vanished in the darkness of her wonders as a sticky sensation of dirtiness and failure oppressed her heart. In a word she was too sad to actually cry.

The scientist put a comforting hand on her shoulder before nodding, professionally. How many times had he used this tactic? How many women had pretended to be alright when a strong sentiment of fear was actually ruining their lives?

"Everything is going to be alright, Karen. It's just a classic check-up so I need you to relax; breathe slowly."

She restrained a gasp at the sudden contact but let it go, resigned before the idea that time hadn't got suspended _ at any moment _ since the very beginning of her harsh reality and it would never do. She had to run after it, to do her best to be a part of it. The world didn't stop turning just to mourn people's misadventures.

A phone rang in the background; she swallowed back her tears.

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The counselor settled further in her armchair and narrowed her eyes before Karen's medical file. The physical check-up had only lasted five minutes or so, as well as the ultra-sound picture. Then she had been allowed to get dressed and so she had headed straight to the little corner supposed to bring the required dose of intimacy; put back her skirt absent-mindedly, buttoned her cardigan like an automat. She wanted to go back home and have a bath, forget about the day; wish in silence that the night would draw a line under a heavy mistake in her life.

"So I see that everything is biologically ok. These are good news, aren't they? Well now tell me about you, about your feelings. How did it go during those two weeks?"

The woman raised an interrogative eyebrow and grabbed her mug; sipped some coffee. Separating reluctantly her twisted hands, Karen shrugged then cleared her voice. She didn't feel like speaking at all. Her life was a mess, she already knew it; there was no need to repeat it out loud one more time.

"I'm getting a divorce so I moved out and… I don't know… I wish I had someone."

Her voice suddenly flirted with a higher tone caused by a stifled pain. She put an abrupt end to her reply as a shrug and a nervous smile gave a pale continuation to her explanations.

"I'm sorry for your marriage."

"That's life…"

The counselor didn't pay attention to the bitterness of Karen's comment. Obviously her mind was already focused on another point of so-called interest.

"Are you alone today? The last time I saw you, you were accompanied. Speaking to your friends about your abortion is extremely relieving. Have you tried to mention it yet or simply avoided the conversation?"

"He couldn't come today. He had an important last-minute meeting… But it's ok. I mean, we did talk a bit about it; not too much though. Anyway he can't really give me a proper answer to… Well… I have so many wonders right now but it's just a matter of time. I'm fine. Really, I'm fine."

The woman stayed quiet; Karen rolled her eyes. How could she ever confess the slightest thing to a perfect stranger when two of her closest friends kept on ignoring what had happened and she thought it was better like that?

"You know what, I sleep very well. I had no nightmare, I ate correctly; at regular hours. Obviously my body is back on track so how about we stop now? What do you think about it, honey?"

The last word made her jump and it took her aback. She hadn't called anyone like that since a very long time as if it actually belonged to another period of her existence and it had nothing to do with what she was going through now. It sounded innocent, funny and light when she was just cold, dark and lonely.

Something set off in her mind and she locked her eyes with the counselor's, lowering her voice to a dreadful whisper of interrogations.

"What if it was my only time? I'm thirty-eight years old. Who knows if I will ever get pregnant again?"

"I thought you weren't ready for a child. Have you changed your mind?"

"No, not at all… I know I did the right thing. I'm just so scared that I won't be given another chance when I actually feel ready."

"And why would that happen? Your body is biologically fit for pregnancies. Yes you're not twenty-five anymore but a lot of women have their first child around their forties. There's nothing to worry about. If it means to happen, then it will."

"And what if it doesn't?"

"Then your life won't stop and won't be sadder. Why are you so focalized on a negative twist of the events? Why do you feel the urge to punish yourself like that?"

The words went out slowly, almost sweetly; led by a terrifying logic. It contrasted quietly with the boiling anger rushing through her veins, her clenched fists.

"Because I don't regret anything…"


	14. Reality catches up fiction

**_Nothing natural could come between_**

**_Enamored mortals such as we_**

_Three months earlier, August_

"Do you ever stop smiling?"

Karen bit her lower lip _ leaned up on her elbows _ and shook her head at Will. She was fine with him; no commitment, simple acts deprived of consequences. He was nice, sweet and attentive, perfect in a word. She planted a kiss on his bare chest then lie down on top of him; closed her eyes and filled her lungs of his scent. The waves were murmuring a monotone lullaby as the sun was caressing their skin in a warm and subtle embrace. She fell asleep.

They used to wake up late in the morning and headed almost immediately for a walk through the island. Karen's old red bike remained in the garage now and she always climbed behind Will _ on his own bike _ and held his waist tightly; her chin leaned on his shoulder as the wind hit her cheeks in a cool motion. They took unknown paths, stopped by a quiet creek, admired the landscape in a religious silence before coming back home for lunch; and a nap, intimate rustling of the sheets that got lost in their sighs.

Life seemed so light, peaceful. The weeks flew away in the nonsense of their relation and nobody really complained; nobody really dared to say anything. For once she felt happy with someone and no matter it was with Will, at least she couldn't help smiling; sincerely. They didn't spend a minute apart as if they were trying to catch up time and make of the summer the idyllic road for the rest of their lives. They talked, laughed, kissed, touched; flirted. And it sounded so natural.

On weekends they sagely retreated to what they would call normality but even their gazes kept on telling more. If Grace and Jack had been more attentive, they would have probably noticed a change in their friends' behaviors, a troubling confusion of senses and the terrible sensation that they were losing control of it. July went away in the silent hopes of novelty as August settled it all down slowly. They came up with a beloved routine, like an old couple. They just should have wondered a bit more perhaps; about the meanings of this affair, their so-called carefree attitude.

What would happen once they would come back to Manhattan? As a matter of fact, none of them dared to fantasize about an eventual suite that they would give to their acts. It seemed to belong to Shelter Island; to the warm sun of the summer and the quietness of _Eden Roc_. They would just turn the page and say it was over; not that they would ever deny what had happened but it was better if the story remained secretly hidden in their hearts.

Little by little the houses closed their curtains, the cars went away as the ferries became rarer and the island turned quieter. The beaches emptied, the breeze got substituted by a colder wind and before them noticing it, the end of the summer reached their day-to-day routine. There had been no drama, no escaping in the middle of the night and their affair had lived its time through the delicacy of a very old dream. Had someone ever had doubts? They had been so careful that the mere idea could be discarded without too much fear and when the sun woke her up on a Monday morning for the last time, Karen didn't move; peaceful. Everything was safe and over. She spent a long time observing his arms, trying to keep in mind the grace of his features, the shades of his complexion under the light of the day.

They made love one more time then packed and left; stopped holding hands.

The boiling life of New York City simply took them away in a whirl of well-known events and even though they didn't forget about anything, they never came to mention it. Stanley came back from Italy, they argued again; Will shared more time with Grace but nonetheless thought a lot more about Karen.

The story was supposed to stop there, at this exact moment when the leaves of the trees began to get brownish shades and the blueness of the sky adopted a gray monochrome of pale memories from a summer that had already vanished. Children went back to school, people headed towards the office; coffee in hand. And if you had asked a passer-by about his current thoughts, he would have probably answered that he was already planning his next vacation, far; very far from the city he nonetheless loved so much.

But sometimes life doesn't turn as planned; devilish twists come up and we don't know what to think.

End of September, nauseous moment of a terrifying wonder; a high probability turned out to be a bit too much realistic.

The weather had turned stormy a minute earlier and in order to escape from the imminent shower, Will rushed to the restaurant; pushed the door, looked around. The room was large and crowded while the dark lights provided a cozy atmosphere, an intimate one. Jack had chosen the place, a new Lebanese and because of a meeting with some important and new client, Will was coming late. He made a few steps toward the counter of the bar and suspended his question as Karen stepped out of the bathroom. He smiled at her; she gasped. She didn't look pale but livid as microscopic drops of water were still hung at the corner of her lips. She seemed tired, not so fine.

"Is everything alright?"

Grace waved loudly from the back of the room and both ex lovers furtively glanced at her, nodding shyly. Something sounded wrong all of a sudden, unexpectedly awkward. Will began to freak out and repeated his question with a barely contained anxiety. He grabbed her hand, locked his eyes with her hazel ones.

"Is everything alright? You look troubled."

"I'm pregnant."

This is when reality catches up fiction back and the innocence of a flirt loses its sparkling lights.


	15. Naturally

**_Nothing natural could come between_**

**_Enamored mortals such as we_**

_October, fourteen days after abortion_

Nothing had really changed at the end. She huddled up and looked blankly at the trees through the window. It had started raining when she had left the clinic, hadn't stopped since then and the light of the day seemed as pale as the hopes of her heart. She pulled on the silk sleeve of her Chinese pajamas and wrapped her arms around her knees in a protective motion. She felt calm but nonetheless a bit confused about the words she had exchanged with the counselor earlier in the afternoon. Something was missing like in a second-hand jigsaw puzzle on which you would have spent an impressive amount of hours before finally realizing that a piece _ the last one _ had been missing since the very beginning.

Her cell phone vibrated on the floor, vaguely turned around; absorbing the stifled sound caused by the contact with the ground. She didn't pick it up, didn't even check the identity of the person who was calling. Her eyes were following the movements of the branches dancing through the wind and the brownish leaves, twirling in the sky in a vague attempt to escape from their sentenced end on the damp asphalt.

A knock on the door; she smiled.

When she had told him that she was pregnant, he had promised two things: his constant moral support and an effusion of kisses, hugs and cuddling. If she growled in repulsion in public towards the slightest gesture of attention, her behavior was the exact opposite in the intimacy. She needed it, simply needed the care of someone over her lonely soul; so insecure at the end.

He had been sweet, as usual; always listened to her, nodded to the arguments she kept on advancing, never threatening her of anything. No matter how bitter it might have been, the abortion process had been a sort of continuation of their odd relation shared in the summer and now that everything was over _ now that nothing would make Will stay by her side _ Karen wasn't sure that she wanted a life if he wasn't a part of it too; beyond the mere principle of friendship.

Stanley had left, the idea was getting strength and veracity in her head little by little; no matter how the sound of it hurt. And if she had had to be completely honest, her marriage had probably never really worked out and their decision to spend the summer apart from each other only resulted to be seen and understood as the mere consequence of a barely hidden realization. What if Will was her second chance?

She looked up at him as he came in her bedroom and kneeled down in front of her; his features tensed. He was anxious, angry against himself for not having been able to support her until the very end.

"I'm fine; everything's fine."

He welcomed her statement with a deep sigh and took her immediately in his arms, hugged her tiny frame tightly as if if he ever let go of her body, she would simply vanish in the nothingness of an odd dream.

She smiled against him, buried her face in his neck and swallowed hard as he planted a kiss on her throat; then another one. She let him do though, her heart speeding up its pace in her chest. Taking a silent breath Karen closed her eyes and tried to enjoy the warmness of his lips against her skin. The air became suffocating and she pushed him away.

He stared at her, halfway between sincere apologies if he had ever hurt her and incomprehension; a pale flame of a thousand silent wishes.

She shook her head, frowned.

Will cleared his voice, passed his tongue over his lips; obviously hesitating before speaking.

"Am I allowed to keep hopes?"

She locked her eyes with his and thought about the shades of the sun that had looked after them on Shelter Island. She remembered their walks, the way they used to laugh and the seriousness enveloping suddenly their eyes as soon as they shared a kiss. The natural lightness of their days had rocked her heart in the deepest hours of the night and she wished nothing more now but coming back to this time.

But without the clinic, without the bleeding and the pain in her lower stomach. The sensation to be weak and disarmed before her own life was a sentiment that was still burning her mind with sharpness and violence. Had they abused from happiness and so were paying now for their insatiable innocence? She didn't know but it still hurt, way too much.

"I guess so."

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_Eight months later, June_

Karen jumped at the sudden contact then blinked, a bit perplexed before the feelings it stirred up in her heart; this wave of warmness and peace. She was just surprised that a so young person did accept to grab her hand tightly, with confidence and trust.

From her hospital bed, Grace smiled at her friend.

"She likes you."

"Yeah, I guess."

Karen looked down immediately and broke the contact with the new-born baby as she felt the heat rushed up her cheeks. What was it about children that made her so uncomfortable and intimidated? As soon as Will and Jack had closed the door behind them, leaving both women alone, she had lost her self-confidence and had turned unexpectedly quiet. She had never liked changes; Grace's motherhood was a big one and she wasn't sure how to adapt herself to it.

"I had an abortion."

So many months had passed by since the episode of the clinic that she had actually thought that she had turned a page over it definitely but the sight of her friend's baby in a crib had set off a whole process of harsh memories. She turned around and looked at Grace properly, pleading her silently for apologies.

"I had one too when I was twenty-three."

Something happened in the exchanged gaze at this exact moment, a mutual pain wrapped in silent comprehension and the weight of heavy secrets flying away, all of a sudden.

She left the room a couple of minutes later and went down the hall. Will was waiting there, alone. Karen made her way towards him as Grace's confession was still resounding loud in her head and as he looked up from the magazine he was reading, she captured his lips sweetly; pressed his hand.

Nothing had been planned; Will had just waited for her to be ready.

Naturally, as it was meant to be.


End file.
